


Die Familie

by vogue91



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: “What... what does it mean?” he asked, blushing once more.Francis smiled, malicious.“I’ve always thought you were completely dumb, but I thought you wouldn’t have missed the meaning of those papers.”





	Die Familie

**Author's Note:**

> A longer piece with the same concept as "Ally, Friend."

_Doitsu! Doitsu? Doitsu?!_

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He definitely couldn’t.

That boy from problem was quickly turning into a plague.

One day he suggested obscure strategies to win the war, most of which required the use of food or women, the other he let himself being kidnapped by England, or he give in to France’s charm.

And he was always there, ready to save him.

As he was today, on his way to Francis’ house to take him back.

But then, why bother at all?

He started to ask himself if it was really worth it to keep saving him, or if it hadn’t finally arrived to moment to leave him at the mercy of the Allies, once and for all.

The scene right before his eyes, did nothing to prove his theory wrong.

Feliciano sat on the grass. Francis, in front of him, was spinning a dish of pasta, and he laughed out loud for how the boy followed him closely with his eyes.

“ _Verdammt,_ Bonnefoy! You’re almost worse than him!” he screamed, getting closer to the two of them. When he saw him, Francis let go of the plate, spilling its content on the ground, and faced Ludwig.

“I was just wondering when you were going to come, Germany.” he said, then he winked at Italy.

“Pastaaaa!” he screamed, without even turning to see his Doitsu.

“Feliciano, no! How many times do I have to tell you you shouldn’t eat food off of the floor?!” he scolded him, before an even more amused Francis.

“Bad doggy!” the latter added, scratching ironically the boy’s ears.

“Doitsu! I’m glad you came. Would you like to play with Francis and I?” he asked, still more concentrated on the food than the talk.

Ludwig, after all, was all too aware that when it was about eating, Feliciano was more than capable of sending those few neurons he had left to Hell.

“Very well, we’re going home now.” Germany said, deeply irritated.

France smiled, pointing at his own house.

“There’s no rush, Ludwig, no rush at all. Before that, I’d like for you to see something, and meanwhile we can also open a nice bottle of wine, don’t you think?” he didn’t give the other nation time to reply, and went inside.

Germany opened his eyes wide, then sighed and collected from the ground the few pasta left.

“Come on, Italy. Let’s go inside.” he said, waving the food in front of him so that he would’ve followed.

No, of course he wasn’t an ally. He was a pet.

 

~

 

“What did you want me to see, Bonnefoy?” he asked harshly, once in the humongous living room. The French sighed.

“Don’t be impatient, Ludwig. You should try to relax, from time to time.” he went to an old and elegant gramophone. He turned it off, and the room was filled with the delicate notes of The Blue Danube from Strauss. Francis joined the Teutonic again, and reached an hand out for him. Ludwig’s face became purple and pulled away, trying to put some distance between them.

“What do you want?” he asked, embarrassed. Francis raised his eyes and took his wrist, dragging him to the centre of the room.

“I’m trying to initiate you to the noble art of dancing, even though I deem it improbable, since when you were born someone has clearly stuck a pole there, where the sun doesn’t shine.” he ironized, taking Germany’s hand and bringing it to his waist.

They started spinning, even though Ludwig could barely follow the other’s steps, too astounded by the absurdity of the situation to react.

When he finally recovered, he stopped in the middle of the room.

“Francis Bonnefoy! Don’t be an idiot, we’re men. Dance is for shallow ladies.” he complained, shrieking.

The French looked offended, and he went toward a piece of furniture in the corner of the room.

“Whatever you say. After all, it doesn’t surprise me, you’ve always been very little fun.” he said, haughty. He took a folder, and took out a few papers from it.

He went toward Ludwig and gave them to him, then he sat on the couch with his arms crossed, next to North Italy who was still eating the spaghetti with his hands.

Ludwig read the papers carefully, opening his eyes wider while he went on.

When he was done, he turned to face France.

“What... what does it mean?” he asked, blushing once more.

Francis smiled, malicious.

“I’ve always thought you were completely dumb, but I thought you wouldn’t have missed the meaning of those papers.” he got closer, tearing them from his hands. “It just means that, as those papers state, you’re my brother. Blood brother. And since Feliciano is my brother as well, it implies that... well, that he’s your brother too.”

Ludwig took a step back.

It wasn’t possible.

He knew about his ancestry, he knew that... well...

No, he didn’t know a thing. But he _couldn’t be Francis’ brother._ It made no sense at all.

“I... I think it’s time we show ourselves out.” he muttered, without tearing his eyes from France, who sighed frustrated and followed Ludwig while he got away quickly, dragging Italy with him.

“Doitsu! But I want to be a little longer with big brother France! Is it true that he’s your brother? Then we’re brothers as well? _Che bello, Doitsu_! So now you can read bedtime stories to me like older brothers do? Uh, Doitsu? Doitsu?!” he kept talking, but Germany pretended he didn’t hear him.

“You can’t run, Germany. You can’t run from your little brothers!” France yelled at him, clearly mocking him.

He went toward home, confused.

 _Brothers_?

It was impossible. Francis and him had nothing in common, even less with Feliciano.

Enemy with one, allied with the other. Well... baby-sitter, it was more like it.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He glanced at the boy, who kept following, glowing.

His brother.

Perhaps was that the reason why he kept saving him? Why he kept him out of trouble, instead of giving him rope to hang himself with?

In that moment a few girls walked by them, and North Italy lightened up even more.

“Bye-bye Doitsu, I’ll see you later at home!” he said, before running toward them.

No. That boy didn’t have a single drop of Germany’s same blood inside of him.

Or, at least, that’s what he would’ve liked to believe.

Ludwig leant against a wall, exhausted.

He was surrounded by a bunch of imbeciles, to whom apparently he was related.

In his mind he started wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to run, give up on the war and find some peace, in some remote corner of the Earth.

But when that night Italy came back home covered in bruised and crying, explaining that he had been intercepted by America, Germany had to give up on any dream allowing him to escape that reality, definitely ridiculous.

He wasn’t going to go away. He would’ve kept living in that Hell...

“Doitsu, Doitsu! Can you come bathe me?”

...forever.


End file.
